When We Were Young
by Spicy-obsession
Summary: Ginny reflects about her brother. First stab at an slightly angsty oneshot, and it shows horrible. Flames are welcome in fact, don't even read it it's that badly written.


**Disclaimer**: You know the drill.

**A/N**: Another one-shot I'm doing. I'm trying my hand at angst so its gonna be "newbish" to you experienced angst readers out there, okay? Just a warning to you guys.

**Note**: Set in Ginny's third year.

**Warning**: It's incest so beware. If you flame, it had better be constructive or I'm deleting it.

**When We Were Young**

* * *

I liked Harry. It was truly, a hopeless infatuation. He was my hero, my role model. My ideal kind of _man_. I wholly wished that he would return my feelings; I really did wish for it badly. Especially what happened in my first year. He was really was my knight in shining armor. 

But why isn't he now? My dreams about him have long faded into shadows. I no longer blush or stutter when I talk to him, which is a massive improvement, mind you. It used to be that I would yearn for him so much that tears would fall, splattering my bed covers as I fell into fitful sleep. Not anymore. Now a new person occupied the empty space. How I wished it wasn't him. Why did it have to be him?

You were a blur among all my other brothers, but I still noticed you. It was because you were so close to me in age I had no choice _but_ to acknowledge you. You were nothing like Harry, the exact opposite almost. But you loved me. When Harry didn't, you did. You gave it to me unconditionally. When I was ignored, you noticed that and would play with me until I felt better. Even now, you still do that but in different ways.

In a way, I _was_ jealous of Hermione. Jealous because she was so close to you. Envious because society would accept you two. But I still adored her, I really did. How could I not, when she enamored you? I did so because it made you happy. I did it just to see you smile at me.

When we were young, when we would play together, I never gave it a second thought. I'd say, "I love you!" and Mum and Dad would laugh, exclaiming how endearing it was that I kept saying that. But I meant it. Young as I was, I meant every word I said. I would stand by you and support you no matter what. I could never be mad at you. Irritated, yes, but never pure anger.

As we grew up, I found out that I could no longer say those things in public. People would stare, and our parents would look at me oddly. I kept silent and tucked those unsaid things away in the darkest corner, so I'd never find them. I often wondered what you thought of me. What went on in your head at night, when I'd find you sleeping on the couch, a tense expression on your face? I never asked. It was better not to.

And then you met Harry. And so did I. Thoughts of you were swept out completely, at least for the moment. I had finally found my savior. I thought that, maybe, he could save me from myself; from the dangerous things I was feeling about you. And he did. For virtually 3 years. I was in a haze of obsession, hopelessly in "love". And I was happy. Happy that I had found someone who could take my mind off of things.

But maybe, in my mind in any case, he was too perfect. His perfection made me feel even more inadequate about myself. I fell into depression because I had thought that I was too imperfect for anyone to love. And you were there when I fell to catch me.

I'm not sure myself how all this began. It had seemed so natural when we were young, naïve and carefree. It just…happened. One morning, one moment, and that's when I knew. Maybe I had known all along, and it wasn't the right time to know. Maybe this was all just a crazy dream that I had refused to let myself wake up from. One detail vivid, the next muddled, everything spinning until I felt like Alice being sucked down the rabbit hole.

But right then, the one person I wanted more than anyone else was you. I didn't care if you weren't exactly a knight in shining armor. Just plain you was more than I could ever ask for. You weren't perfect, but that was expected. I would always be there for you, even when you left me…

"Ginny?"

I looked up, startled; to find your face above mine, over the chair I was sitting in. Your hair was messily covering your eyes and I suddenly itched to brush the strands back, like Mum did when you were small, but I held my hands tightly.

"Yeah?" I tried to keep my voice casual, but not too forced.

"It's almost one in the morning. You really should go to bed." He sounded very sincere and I felt very sad abruptly, a lump forming in my throat. I smiled at him.

"Like you have room to talk."

He formed a sheepish expression on his face as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Okay, okay, you win. I'll go to bed soon."

I shook my head. "No, no. _You_ go to bed first. I'll catch up with you later."

He raised an eyebrow. "Ginny…" I suppose it was meant to be a warning because his eyes glittered hard. I decided to humor him that night.

"All right, big brother, I'll go to bed now," I said, rising up from the armchair. He had a triumphant look on his face, pleased at a job well done. I shook my head exasperatedly.

As I started towards the stairs, a freckled hand blocked my way unexpectedly. I turned around to face my brother, a curious expression on my face. He placed a hand on my head and ruffled my hair playfully.

"'Night, sis."

I looked some other way, anywhere but not at him right then. "'Night."

I then trudged up the stairs, squeezing my eyes shut, not caring if I tripped and fell down. He'll probably be still there, doing God knows what.

* * *

_A stark, cold room lay out before her. There is no color in her eyes, only blank acceptance and submission. She wraps her arms around herself, tucking her head in, eyes shut. She slowly tries to rock herself to peaceful slumber, her many attempts failing miserably. No tears will fall because her eyes are dry and vacant, her lips cracked and light blue. It' s cold, so cold in that room, her skin is white, and her ragged breathing reverberates against the walls, reaching no one's ears. _

_She wants out, but there is no door. She wants noise, but there is silence. She wants warmth, but there is none. Her lashes stand out harshly against her paleness, the soft color of her nightgown. She doesn't want to look up, doesn't want to rise, and doesn't want to live. _

_An odd ringing fills her ears, and she timidly looks up, bewildered. An affectionate voice breaks through her mental walls, the soft tones and low rumbles thawing her._

"'_Night, sis."_

_So warm…and safe…She parts her lips, making a small smile and her breathing slows down. Some color returns to her face, making her young again. But then…_

_The warmth ebbs away from her fingertips, the cold setting back in. She widens her eyes. No. Don't go. Stay here. Please. She painfully raises a hand towards empty air, swiping at nothing. The warmth was gone, and it was cold again. The color is drained from her face, her youth sliding away once more. Her hand drops, making no sound as it hits the floor. She bites her bottom lip sharply, ignoring the pain as it drew coppery blood, dribbling down a side of her cheek. _

_She screams, though no sound comes out.

* * *

_

I woke up with a start, beads of sweat on my forehead. Chill bumps covered my arms and legs, the bedcovers tossed about. I sat up groggily, my head spinning. I looked at my hands tremble and shake. I swung my legs over a side of the bed, bending down. I waited for my breathing to calm. A nauseous feeling crept up my throat. I clutched my stomach, gritting my teeth. I needed to walk. I determinedly stood up and began my long trek down the stairs, my hands gripping the railing tightly.

Upon coming down, I heard a soft groan from a couch in front of the fire. The shadows played tricks across the walls. The figure was lying down. I walked over, one hand still grasping my stomach.

It was he. His red hair was messily tossed around, and his hands were splayed over his chest. A tense look came over his face, and he groaned again. I dropped to my knees, gazing at him thoughtfully. I cautiously took a hand and held it with both of mine, fingering his palm. My head was still slightly throbbing but it wasn't so bad.

A groan escaped from him again, and, without thinking, I started to make little soothing noises in the back of my throat. Like Mum. He visibly calmed down. I stared at him, a sad smile gracing my features. He murmured something and I leaned closer, straining to hear it.

"…Hermione…"

I tensed up, squeezing his hand possessively. He seemed not to notice and continued to sleep, a snore or two coming out. I bit my bottom lip, fighting back urges to cry. Yes. I know you can't love me. But it wouldn't hurt if I continued to, would it? I promise I'll leave you and Hermione alone. I'll live far away so that I can't hurt you. Please tell me, would that make you happy? In a way, I wish we were young again, so that I could say all of those things and more.

I want to live in the past. I don't want to give any of it up. Not ever. I suppose I'm selfish for wanting you like this, and I won't fight it, but…you really were the only one who ever "got" me.

I want us to play together again; just the two of us, out there in the sun, and when we'd stay out too long, Mum would come out and shout for us to come back in. I want to be able to hug you and tell you you're my reason for living. I wanted to do a lot of things.

Ironic how loving you makes me feel clean and dirty at the same time. I hope that maybe one day, when we're both gone from this world, I can be with you like we couldn't be here. So that I can be myself. Because, after all, you know me better than anyone I know. You don't set standards or silly ideals for me to look up to. You accept all of me. And I accept all of you. Even the part that doesn't love me in that way.

Because I couldn't ask for more. Because your brotherly love for me is the closest to terrestrial heaven that I can get. You make me feel so alive I could fly. Ask me for anything. Leave you alone. Give you the world. Be happy. I would do all those things, but please, _please_, don't ask me not to love you…

"Ginny? Wake up."

"Hmm?"

"Ginny, wake up, sleepyhead."

I sat up and opened my eyes blearily to find Ron and Hermione staring at me all bemused and of the like. I rubbed my eyes and yawned.

"Where am I…?"

At that, he chuckled a bit and said, "You fell asleep by me last night, don't you remember? One minute I was dozing off, the next I wake up to find you sleeping next to me, your head on the cushion!"

I blinked, letting everything from the night before resurface. I feel asleep next to him…how…childish. Wait. Does he know…? I didn't say a word as Ron and Hermione stood up.

"Well, since you're awake, we'll be going now, 'kay?" She sounded uncertain, awkward. I nodded.

"Okay, then. I'm gonna do something else then…" I trailed off dazedly. I shook my head. I was very dizzy. My brother tugged the sleeve of her robe.

"Right, let's go then?"

She grinned widely at him and I felt my insides turn haphazardly. "Sure. Bye Ginny!"

As they walked towards the exit, I heard snippets of their conversation. I stopped walking the opposite direction, standing very still.

"…that was real nice of you to sit next to me last night…"

"…what? Ron, I did no such thing."

"But didn't you? I mean…you did hold my hand and make those noises right? Odd, just like my Mum did whenever I had a bad dream…"

"Well, I didn't do that."

"Oh-! Well, then who did?"

I resumed walking, smiling inwardly. And as I climbed the steps, I could have sworn someone was watching me with a questioning look. Three guesses who.

* * *

End. Well, you guys know what to do! And by the way, sorry I ended it on such a fluffy note. I really wanted it to stay angsty throughout, but it just came out this way. Dangit! 


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